


The Few Things

by thesquirrel_alixncvna



Series: me rewriting civil war for stevenat [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, civil war is a tragedy, the russos are cowards, tonynat is everything, why didn't we get this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:53:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25001938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesquirrel_alixncvna/pseuds/thesquirrel_alixncvna
Summary: In which the Accords break hearts on both sides.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: me rewriting civil war for stevenat [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809946
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	1. Loving You is a Losing Game

**Author's Note:**

> The Few Things - Charlotte Lawrence and JP Saxe

"Don't worry, Miss Romanoff. I'll kill him myself."  
Natasha watches the unsuspecting king opposite rise from the bench and stride away, wearing the blood stains that decorate his shirt collar as gilding, that on his forehead as warrior paint. Already, he has a noble air, she considers, but his smouldering glare worries her. 

These Accords are supposed to be stark, indifferent. That's the point. To rein everybody in, no buts, no ifs. And yet every signatory has managed to make this about emotion. Right now, all she wishes is that people would _feel_ less. Sentiment twists things, warps the truth, hides logic from sight, when right now that is all they need. Natasha truly believes that if they'd reasoned _properly_ , none of this would be happening. T'Challa wouldn't be off his head with grief, Steve wouldn't be...Steve would be here. He would be raking hands through his hair and worrying over his lip and fussing, which she'd only secretly love. He'd hug her and reassure her with the consolation that everything's gonna be alright, and she'd believe him, if only for a second, because Steve never lies, never to her.

Helicopters and hoses are everywhere, shouting and sirens a cacophony without bounds. Silver snakes writhe against the control of their handlers, coiling upward to twist inside windows and quench the curling flames with fervour. And all because of emotion.

Soot stains her clothes, rendering this outfit unwearable now. Pity. It runs its fingers through her hair and strokes her cheek in a way that's beginning to itch, though when she brings a hand up to scratch at the irritation, it only smears the stuff further. Natasha huffs impatiently, but is cut off as her phone starts to vibrate in her hand.

Her huff quickly turns to an exhale wrung through with relief. She can feel her conflict in her mind already easing, quieting as the line connects them. Though they may be heads and tails of a coin right now, Natasha knows it couldn't come between them. Steve had been hurt, of course, when she chose Tony, but he understood. In his eyes, just because she was 'wrong' didn't change the way he thought of her. One 'mistake' can't cancel out love.

The word still feels funny on her tongue. It doesn't quite fit in her head, like a gear out of place. This new setting is unfamiliar, but in the best way. Natasha didn't think she'd ever get the chance to feel this way about anyone, or have them feel this way towards her. But she has, is, every moment of every day. Nothing anyone says could ever change the way she loves Steve.

"Hi,"  
"Are you alright?" His voice automatically lessens something in her chest, and she can breathe easier.  
"Yeah, thanks, I- I got lucky."

The silence from the other end does manage to shoot one bolt of uneasiness through her mind, though she knocks it aside, rising from the bench. Her eyes flick warily to the sides, checking for loitering figures and eavesdroppers, and she lowers her voice.

"Where are you?"  
"Nat look- "  
They speak at the same time, wires crossing with a fizzle. Pressing the phone closer to her ear, as if that will somehow pull her closer to him, she cuts off, leaving a space in the air for his speech.  
"I'm in Germany."

A lie, though Steve can tell she doesn't detect it. Relief breeds with shame. Relief: this is only going to hurt, it's better without questions. Shame: he's never lied to her before. And her unwavering faith in his honesty makes this all the worse. In reality, Steve is just a few metres away, obscured by a tree. Sunglasses cast a tint over his vision, but he can still pick out her scarlet head easily, a buoy of still calm in a sea of steadily rising smoke and panicked shouting. Having her this close, and yet this far, is like a weight in his bones. It's getting harder and harder to stand his ground and not rush over to hug her, nuzzle his head in her hair and her shoulder, feel her compact frame against his own. He wants to tell her how scared he was when he heard, the fear that wrapped its cold fingers around his heart in the two dialling tones before she picked up. He wants to tell her how much he loves her, and how sorry he is for making a whole mess of this. But mostly for his next words.

"Barnes- "  
"Didn't do this."  
He hears her sigh, not for the first time today, and certainly not the last. "You better be pretty damn sure about that."  
"I am," He insists, and she rolls her eyes mentally. Stubborn as ever. Loyal to a fault, is Steve, which is both commendable and the source of much frustration.  
"Anyway, what were you saying?"  
"Nat I- " Steve swallows, amassing the courage to cut ties with the best thing that ever happened to him. To do what's necessary. "I'm going to be gone a long time."

A cold fire lights in her chest at his words, swallowing the air in her throat. The ease his voice gave her to breathe is gone, an unwilling tightness spreading from the pit of her stomach.

"And I don't think they'll approve if your boyfriend is a fugitive from the law."  
"I don't care about their approval." He watches her stand still suddenly, taut and unmoving. Even from here he can see her pursed lips, and it takes a lot of self-control not to stride over and kiss away her worry lines.  
"Nat..."  
"Don't do this, Steve." Natasha wishes she could redact the tremble from her tone, but the prospect of this loss is like a knife, carefully dissecting each muscle in her heart, digging deeper, and deeper, and deeper.  
"We have to."  
She breathes shakily. " _Please_." 

It is unlike Natasha to beg, but Steve, the constant of his love, is the only thing that's making all of this kind of okay. The promise that she can still wake up in his arms is the only thing keeping her sane. Her family is slicing and dicing itself, with Natasha stuck in the middle. If she doesn't have Steve, she doesn't have anyone.   
Another beat of unforgiving silence, and she knows her entreatment was to no avail. "Take care of yourself, Nat." The line goes dead, his voice flat-lining.

Her eyes screw shut tight, rolling her lips and biting down. _No tears for you, Steven darling_. The phone does not drop from her ear. Instead she hold it there a few seconds, unwilling to rejoin a world where she's properly alone.   
"I love you," She whispers at last into the dialling tone, before shoving the offending object back into her pocket. Batting away any of the despair welling up, she breathes deeply, and ignores the way it feels like inhaling glass. Feelings are for later, when behind closed doors.

It's not fair. None of this is fair. These politics are tearing her world apart in a way none of those aliens ever did. These Accords, they were meant to be about logic, and responsibility, not confiscating rights. They weren't supposed to take away her right to have a heart and a head at the same time.

~*~

"I'm sorry. You know, about you and Cap."  
Natasha looks up as Tony sits down beside her. Surprisingly, he seems genuine. Apparently his own feelings about Steve at this time won't affect his respect for her, which Natasha appreciates. Perhaps he is capable of letting go of his ego for a few seconds.

They're back at the compound, though probably only for the night. Everything is moving so fast these days, the place feels abandoned. A layer of dust coats bare surfaces lightly, even after a few days, which is unsurprising, to be honest. Wanda is not a fan of cleaning. Tony watches as his friend immediately stiffens at his side, obvious hurt flashing across her face for a moment.  
"Yeah, well, nothing lasts forever. It was impractical to draw out the inevitable." She shrugs in pretend indifference, but Tony can easily read the tension in her shoulders, the white knuckled grip suddenly creasing the magazine. He can see the clouds in her eyes, the sag that seems to pull every part of her downward. Like she's given up. It startles Tony, the vehement streak of concern that presses on him suddenly. Through all of this, surprisingly, Natasha has been a rock, steadfast and supportive in her opinions. But apparently, even the Black Widow is not above a broken heart. And he feels the overwhelming urge to console her.

"He still loves you, you know."  
"Maybe." No attempt is made to tuck away the morose accent to her features, to his surprise, and it warms him to know that Natasha does trust him a little. He's come to value her highly, and he knows her well enough to state the obvious - she doesn't confide easily. But she's not shying away, for once.  
"He does. I think he always will."  
Natasha flicks over the page of the magazine, expression wistful, though it's evident she is not paying an ounce of attention. "Love is for children."  
"You don't mean that."  
"No," She says at last, and looks at him properly. "I don't."

Tony puts an arm around her shoulders tentatively, but relaxes when she doesn't jerk away. "Look at us, the lovelorn pair we are. This is hardly fair."  
"I don't think Ross is too bothered about our relationship status right now."  
"Eh, probably. But I was sure the Senate was rooting for me and Pepper." Natasha chuckles then, and it's a salve on the rip in her chest, the festering flesh around stitches in her heart. A moment of comfortable silence relaxes between them, different figures, yet similar objects of pining, projected onto the molecules in front of their eyes.  
"Actually, maybe I should be glad." Tony speaks suddenly. "I might actually get a wink of sleep without all that loud sex you two get up to."  
"Shut up."  
He grins. "Like rabbits, the both of you."  
"I said shut it!" But Natasha is laughing for real now, and whacking him continually in the ribs with the rolled up magazine.

Eventually the laughter fades and the moment ends, the gloom trickling into the green of her eyes again as Tony rises to brew yet another mug of coffee.  
Natasha is finding it hard to really accept he's gone. He's gone, and there's a real possibility she might never see him again. She wants to believe they had no choice, that Steve was forced into it, she truly does. But it's made all the worse because of his choosing, and if he'd just denounced quietly...


	2. Who's kissing you, now that I'm gone?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam ships SteveNat and Natasha chooses between head and heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha might be bordering ooc but you know what I don't even care

"Oh, man."

Sam leans back in the passenger's seat and shakes his head, as though disappointed. Bucky leans over his left shoulder. Sam doesn't really appreciate the closeness of their proximity, but he's too distracted by the dastardly events taking place beyond the windscreen to remark on it right now.

Steve and Sharon Carter's locked lips are the current object of fascination, and really, Sam should be happy for his friend. He was one of the many trying and failing to secure Steve a date a couple of years back, but that was before Natasha. He knew what had transpired between them in Vienna, and even if Steve hadn't told him it would have been clear. Steve had become more dogged in pursuing their cause since then, and Sam knew that they had to make it worth it. All of this must worth it, they needed to triumph, because if it wasn't...then what was the point? It had to be worth it, because then the heavy loss could be slightly lightened by the knowledge of their success. Upholding his moral code to this extent has been painful for Steve, and Sam also knows that his friend often wishes he wasn't like this, that for once he could let things slide and go with the flow. It would hurt less. But he can't, and the promise of Natasha's steady embrace at the end of each day was a welcoming reward that made all of this a little bit better. But now there's nothing and no one to go back to, so all of this must be worth it.

All Sam feels as Steve pulls Sharon into a stiff embrace is deflated, and a bit annoyed. First of all, Steve should not be stringing Sharon along with these taunts of intimacy when it's obvious, to Sam at least, that nothing will come of it. Second of all, he can't help but be angry on Natasha's behalf. It must have been less than 48 hours since the severing of ties, and already Steve is glued to another woman. If she ever finds out, Natasha is going to be hurt, and Sam doesn't like his friends getting hurt, especially hurting each other, even when they're not agreeing.

Lastly, it seems pointless. The way Steve reaches out to the (admittedly pretty) blonde is practically out of obligation, it's hesitant and awkward, and to be honest so starkly different to the way he reaches for Natasha Sam might've laughed if he wasn't so put out. 

When Steve and Natasha kiss, you can see they do it with everything. Even the soft ones, the light caresses, it's obvious they put every inch of their soul into it. The image thrust upon Sam now is barely sparking, reticent where emotion is concerned and unenthusiastic. When Steve and Natasha kiss, it's like a forest fire, and that's not just her scarlet hair. It's obvious kissing is like breathing to them, like a source of oxygen. The picture is always almost blinding with colour and passion, like a supernova even (again) when they are barely touching. There is no doubt to be found that they are irrevocably, irretrievably, in love. Sometimes it's sickening, the gooeyness, but almost always manages to make Sam wish he had someone that wanted him the way they need each other.

Perhaps he has no right to care about who Steve kisses, but he does. Perhaps it's not his business, but he feels like poking his nose in anyway.

"What?" Bucky replies, yanking Sam from his reverie.  
Sam barely takes any notice of the query, just vocalises his train of thought and tuts. "I hope Carter knows how much of a rebound she is."  
"What are you on about?" Bucky leans forward even more, confusion twisting his features.  
Still ignoring, Sam continues. "Natasha is gonna be piiiissed."  
"For me this seems an absolute win. Steve is finally getting some."  
"Look, man, we have a mutual friend, but nothing beyond that. He broke his own heart and Natasha's for you, so you better not mess this up. You better make this worth it."  
"Who's Natasha?"  
"Will you please sit back? This is a bit much." Sam gestures irritably to where Bucky's hair is practically tickling his shoulder.  
"Fine..." Bucky mutters as he complies. "Birdbrain," He adds a few seconds later, expression mutinous. The car door clicks as Steve, apparently out of Sharon's grasp, pulls the door open and slides in.  
"What did you just call me?"  
"Are you two going to be like this the whole flight?" Steve asks. He sounds weary, and Sam eyes him sharply.  
"He started it." Bucky says, but Sam doesn't even deign to protest, instead turning to Steve.  
"If that's how you're thanking people these days, I'm gonna start doing you less favours."  
"Shut up," Steve gruffs, and the engine growls to life.  
"Natasha-"  
"Please be quiet, Sam."  
The rest of the drive to the airport is silent, apart from sporadic thuds when Bucky kicks Sam's seat.

~*~

The last time she saw him _hurt_. Like really hurt. She doesn't like how much it hurt. The Black Widow was not supposed to be trampled by anyone, especially a man, but then the Black Widow was never supposed to fall in love. Both have happened.

It probably mostly hurt because it had been unexpected. Out of the blue, the notice was. _Barnes, Wilson and Rogers have been arrested_. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him, she did, desperately. The part that snipped away at the stitches on her weary heart was when he wouldn't even look at her. Not as she watched him be escorted across the sky-walk from behind a glass wall, easily visible. She'd been leaning absentmindedly on a desk before he'd come into sight, but there he was, surrounded by a dozen guards like some sort of fugitive from justice. Natasha couldn't help it. She'd practically leapt from the table, pressing herself so close to the window there were breath marks.

Tony, from his place stewing in the corner, had given her a piteous look. She hadn't cared. She'd watched him until he was out of sight, and then speed-walked to the office they were taking him, but he was already in and the doors were closed by the time she got there. And yet he still wouldn't look at her, even when she was a metre away. Even when a few inches of melted sand were all that was between them. Perhaps he despises her. He told her their choices wouldn't change things, but maybe he's woken up. Maybe Sharon helped him realise his mistake.

Natasha stood outside and felt lost as he paced. She felt naked, vulnerable, and like everyone was looking at her as she stood alone outside the room, not even attempting to disguise the saddened longing on her face. They weren't staring, in actual fact. She looks around uncomfortably, but not even a glance is spared in her direction. Everyone has more important things to do than worry for the Black Widow's broken heart.

Natasha almost considers knocking on the glass. She seriously ponders pounding and talking through it, whether he wants to listen or not. Or even breathing onto the wall, and smearing a message in the mist. But what would she say? Would she ask how he's been? It's been about 36 hours since she saw him last, that would be stupid. Perhaps she would press their hands together through the glass. Maybe they'd whisper sweet nothings until they pulled her away. She wants to kiss his stupid face while it all fades, kiss him senseless as long as their lungs permit, and longer.

Pathetic.

The last time she saw him was painful, and Natasha suspects this time will be no different.

Tony had thought to warn her on the way, which was nice of him, she supposes, but the meeting was inevitable. She had hoped it wouldn't come to fighting, and maybe it still wouldn't, but the chances of that are growing slimmer by the minute.

"Nat, if you have to fight him..." Tony trails off, his meaning clear.  
"I'm fine," Natasha assures curtly. "Head over heart."  
She feels him eye her for a second before replying. "Exactly. Head over heart." She knows he's just worrying about her, she does, but they are in the same boat. Fair enough, he isn't being forced to throw punches at Pepper, but there is an extent that the sympathy becomes sickening.

And he's there. Natasha can see from her position behind the truck, he's there. Her heart thrums faster with apprehensive anticipation as he and Tony exchange a few harsh words, failed reasonings. He won't back down. She was sure before, but now she's certain.

Natasha forces herself to mentally step back from the scene. The airport is a chess board, the figures only pawns. Tactics form at the back of her mind, strategy after strategy flashing through. Of course, things are made more complicated when all the pieces aren't assembled. Clint and Wanda are probably hiding out somewhere, along with Bucky and Sam. Vision is still nowhere to be seen.

It doesn't stay that way for long. Soon, chaos reigns. Trucks fly left and right, fire swallows petrol spills in one gulp. The clash of metal on metal and grunts of pain blend in a discordant soundtrack. Ironically, she thinks, this is what the Accords hoped to avoid. Like Wanda, those are real people's cars you're wrecking there. This is the part of Steve's argument she doesn't understand. Sure, liberty is all very well, but how can you think destroying property and public places with no repercussions is okay? This airport is in ruins. 

Natasha manages to avoid Steve, for the most part. But she may as well have sought him out.

He and Bucky sprint under the falling sky-walk, and for one horrible second, she thinks they won't make it, but they do. They do, and suddenly their eyes meet and neither can look away. His expression drops, and in the moment before he strides towards her, she sees her own yearning mirrored on his face. She tenses as he approaches, preparing to dodge the inevitable punch, but it doesn't come. Instead, she feels his arms clamping her tight to his chest, and his face is in her hair. Letting out an audible exhale, she manages to reciprocate, wrapping her arms around him. It only lasts a few seconds before she pulls away, hands either side of his face. His eyes are wild, like her appearance has skewed reality.  
"Natasha-"  
"You're not gonna stop."  
"You know I can't."

Bucky stands awkwardly to the side. Aware of the urgency of the situation, she closes her eyes, mind spinning. There are two obvious routes here, and though one means she might end the day in a high security prison...

"But I can't fight you either," He adds. Her eyes flick over his shoulder to where T'Challa stands, poised to pounce. She wonders why he doesn't, Bucky is right there, and then it strikes her. He trusts her. They may have known each other only days, but she has sworn alliance to Tony, and the Wakandan king is trusting her to abide by that promise. She flicks back to Steve, and then from him to Bucky and back again. He's studying her face, like he can see the cogs turning. At last, she steps back. His arms fall to his sides, a resigned look on his face.

Natasha hates to break that trust, she really does, but Steve matters _more_. He matters more than anything, and even though he's wrong (she's still convinced of that at least), she can't let him be locked up. There is concern for Sam and Wanda and Clint too, but she knows that wherever they're taken, Steve will get them out. He can't do that if she stops him. His mind may be on Bucky, but hers never strays from him. 

But Tony- the betrayal-

"I'm gonna regret this."  
And suddenly T'Challa is groaning on the floor, electricity arcing on his chest while relief floods Steve's face. Bucky is already jogging to the quinjet when he steps forwards and takes her hands.

"I'll find you."  
"Not if I find you first."  
He does smile at that. "I'll be counting on it."  
"Now go, it won't be long before the cavalry arrives." He grins and starts to jog away, but stops. She frowns as he turns back, but any chastisements are wiped clean when he kisses her, quickly and sweetly. And then he's really gone, smiling sheepishly.

Now for consequences.

~*~

"What's going to happen to your friends?"  
Steve looks up from the control panel grimly. "Whatever it is, I'll deal with it."  
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?"  
"I don't ever stop."  
"Look, I don't know your Natasha, but I know you're worrying for her. Don't. She looks like she can hold her own."  
Steve lets out a bitter laugh, but cuts it short. "Yeah, yeah she can."  
"You always liked the stubborn ones."  
"I guess I have a type, huh."

_She'll be okay. It'll be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope FATWS gives us some new nicknames for Sam because I can't think of that stuff, 'Birdbrain' is overused but it's all I got.
> 
> ++having Bucky say 'I don't know your Natasha' broke my own BuckyNat heart


End file.
